


The Snow Came Down

by Goddess_of_the_Night



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:18:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2831231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goddess_of_the_Night/pseuds/Goddess_of_the_Night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snow effects Harry in a way unseen by Severus in anyone else, but what does that mean for them both?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Snow Came Down

"Harry," the voice calls, the person who's supposed to receive it doesn't, "Harry," they try again, still nothing. "Harry?" they begin to sound worried. Finally they reach out to shake said boy's shoulder.

Harry shakes his head as he turns to face the other person, "Sorry, what was that?"

An eyebrow is raised, "I've been calling your name for the past two minutes, what was that?"

"Nothing, Snape," the name isn't spat, it's just a name now, "I'm sorry, I got distracted."

"By what?"

"I just got lost I guess, it won't happen again, I'm sorry."

Severus looks out the window and vaguely sees the snow falling. It's not a light fall, either; this snow's going to stick. It's the first snow fall of the year. Harry says it's not anything, but he didn't see the look upon his own face, didn't see how his green eyes had shone with hope and sadness at the same time; didn't see how incredibly wise he had looked. Severus isn't stupid, he knows the snow effected Harry, but why was a different reason altogether.

For Harry's part, he isn't sure why he can't tell Snape that he had been watching the snow fall - it isn't even that big of a deal. He guesses it comes down to the fact that Snape might ask him why he was so intrigued by snow, but how do you tell a teacher that for some reason snow makes you long for something you can never have? Every time snow falls it reminds Harry of family and togetherness and a love that he will never receive…one that knows no boundaries and knows answers without having to ask a question.

At the age of 17 - his final year at Hogwarts marked by the death of Voldemort in the first couple months and then the rest marked by interviews and scandals and threats and well-wishes - Harry Potter gained the friendship of one Severus Snape. And if he were honest with himself, he wants more than friendship, and he hopes Severus does, too. Harry wants Severus to dream of him, to want him, to long for him. He wants the man to curse himself for wanting Harry, for being so stupid to fall for a student. If that _ever_ happens to Snape, Harry wants it to be because of him.

Little does he know that he's already got his wish. Severus wants the same things from Harry: the want, the need, the longing, the loathing. Why is it so wrong to want someone to hate themselves for wanting you?

"Snape," the voice calls, the person who's supposed to receive it doesn't, "Snape," they try again, still nothing, "Snape?" they finally get the man's attention. Harry smiles at the look of mild confusion on his teacher's face, "I understand what you mean, now."

"What?"

"Well, where you were coming from calling my name for a couple of minutes with no response. What were _you_ thinking about?"

"I don't really know, actually," usually the man wouldn't have admitted such a thing, but he doesn't feel pressured to lie with Harry.

"You were watching the snow pretty intensely; I thought maybe you saw something out there."

"No…I saw nothing."

And that was the end of it.

A few weeks later the ground is snow-less once more. Harry is sitting outside a few hours before dinner, trying to clear his head as he faces the lake. He breathes deep, smells the purity of the air and exhales contently, showing his breath.

"Practicing breathing?" an amused voice comes from behind, mildly shocking Harry.

"No, Snape, merely reveling."

"In what?" The man sits down beside him.

"Don't you smell it?" Harry asks, turning towards him seriously.

"Smell what?"

"It's going to snow soon."

"You can't possibly know that from a smell."

"How can't I? It smells like snow."

Severus lets it go and they sit in silence for a few minutes before he gets the nerve to ask a question that has been nagging at him, "Harry…why do you become so introspective during the winter?"

Harry looks him in the eye for a few seconds, searching for something, and then looks back at the lake, "What else is there to do in the winter? When everything else is dead, what can you focus on besides your thoughts?"

Severus wants to tell him that he has no right thinking such adult thoughts, but then decides that maybe, just maybe, he deserves it.

The silence stretches on for about 20 minutes, both being introspective, and neither really notices the time pass until the snowflakes start to fall.

"I told you it was going to snow," Harry smiles at him, and he can't help but let the corners of his mouth twitch in response.

"Indeed."

Then Harry does something Severus never expected: he lies down on the ground, facing upwards toward the sky.

"What are you doing?"

"Watching the snow fall," he says before turning his head to the left to look at Severus, "Come on, lie down."

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not? We're just two people enjoying the solitude."

"Together."

He smirks, "Right. Now lie down."

"I still don't think…"

Harry cuts him off, "Will you just trust me? This is very much worth it."

So he finally gives in and lies down facing the sky. It's an odd feeling, watching the snow fall to you instead of watching it fall to the ground. At first it makes Severus' breath catch - maybe in fear, maybe in awe - but soon he learns that he can breathe normally and be just fine.

"Amazing, isn't it?"

"Yes," he admits.

"I told you so."

"Do you want a warming spell? It's cold."

"Maybe later; right now I like feeling the snowflakes."

And they stayed like that until dinner, both heading in with red faces and runny noses. The cold and wet is alleviated by a drying and warming spell, and the other things would go away, but Severus knows it's an experience he'll never forget.

At dinner, the enchanted ceiling lets snowflakes fall down, never reaching the tables and not with the accompanying cold (thank God!). Severus watches Harry gaze up at it, the way they had done outside in the real snow not 20 minutes ago, and he can't help but watch the looks that pass over his face. Dumbledore isn't interested in watching Harry's face, he's interested in watching Severus'. The old man smiles at the gentle look on his employee's face; his boys deserve happiness, so as long as they keep it discreet (which he knows they will, and will probably even think they're fooling Dumbledore himself), he has no intention of stopping this.

But now Dumbledore has a surprise for everyone, so he taps his glass as he stands up, "Now that it seems everyone is done eating," he smiles over the crowd, watching a few students drop their food to their plates, "I have a little surprise for you all, if you would all please follow me into the foyer."

Everyone begins to head out after the Headmaster, but Harry keeps his spot, waiting for Severus to come by before heading out.

"What is he up to?" Harry asks once Severus reaches him.

"I have absolutely no idea."

Harry ends up walking in front of the other man in the tight crowd. People are pushing, some are shouting, and others just aren't watching where they're going since they're too busy talking with their friends. They're almost at the door when Harry feels a hand against his butt. There and gone, quick as a flash, but definitely there. He decides to let it go, thinking it an accident, when there it is again, same as before! He doesn't jump, but he does sneak a look behind him and notices that Severus is the only one who has access to his butt, and that thought makes his stomach jump. It happens a few more times before the group of students in front of them stops suddenly, causing Harry to stop suddenly, causing Severus to stop suddenly…right up against Harry.

Harry blushes. Severus blushes and fidgets. There's nowhere for either of them to move at the moment, so they have to wait until the crowd around them begins to move again, which seems like forever when the world is moving in slow motion. It's not that neither of them wants the contact, but in the middle of a crowd of students it's a tad awkward.

Finally the crowd breaks and allows them to move out into the foyer. What greets them is a huge Christmas tree, completely decorated with lights and ornaments, and an exquisite angel atop (from what one could see of the top from the floor).

"I figured this year we would have a school Christmas tree for the purpose of the exchange of inter-house gifts. You don't have to say who it's from, you don't have to do it when anyone can see, but as soon as the gift is placed underneath the tree, no one will be able to touch it but the person it's meant for."

The school erupts into great talk and speculation, which appears as though it won't dissipate for a long while yet. Harry and Severus, however, leave the gathering so that they can have their regularly scheduled tutoring session. Harry still isn't a great potion's maker, but he's willing to work hard.

After the Potion of the Night is finished, the pair sits down to talk about it (and other things) in the Potion Master's office. It's a comfortable setting with a fireplace, table, two chairs and a cluttered-beyond-recognition desk.

"So what was the most difficult part of this potion?" Severus asks, sipping his tea.

"Well, I think the most difficult part was the Lace-Wings…chopping, not dicing them. The cutting is still the hardest part, I think, because there's such a fine line between all of the different methods, but each potion has to have a specific way…it drives me nuts."

Severus chuckles, "it takes some getting used to, but you _are_ getting better at it."

"Thank you."

"Can I ask you a question not about the wart potion?" Severus asks.

"Of course."

"Does anything make you angry? Nothing seems to, but that simply can't be true."

Harry laughs, "I mean, yeah, of course things make me angry. But if I had to choose the thing that bothers me the most, I think it would have to be people's naivety bordering on stupidity," at the cocked head of his Professor-friend, he continues, "take, for example, Voldemort. It's completely understandable why you didn't want to say his name, but everyone else? What? Like saying his name was like a calling card and he would just appear in front of you and go 'Thank you for inviting me; tea? Cookies? Death? Your head on a silver platter?' It just drove me nuts."

Both laugh at the picture of the Late Voldemort saying such a thing until Severus says, "I agree with you, actually."

"Shocking," Harry smiles coyly and then takes a drink of his tea. As he looks up again he glances out the window, which then turns into a stare. He notices that the snow has stopped falling, but there's plenty of it on the ground.

"Harry?" Severus brings him back.

"Can we go outside?" He asks before he can stop himself. At the stunned look he receives, he blushes, "I mean, if I were to go outside and revel in the beauty of the snow…would you come with?"

"If you really want me to, I would," he says slowly, carefully.

"Great!"

And out they go. Upon getting outside Severus casts a warming spell on both of them, not even asking for permission this time; neither of them was going to get sick on his watch. For a few minutes they stand there admiring the beauty of the untouched snow in the glow of early evening before Harry suddenly drops to his knees and starts balling it up.

"What are you doing?" Severus asks.

"I'm making a snowman. Have you ever made one?" His smile's nearly contagious, but only nearly.

"A snow-what? I've never heard of such a thing."

"Well, I've never made one myself either, actually. But I've seen my cousin and his friends make them. Will you help me?"

"You have to guide me," Severus says once a calculating stare has been delivered.

"That I can do."

Severus takes the time to place a water-proofing spell on both him and Harry (really, what would the boy do without him?) before kneeling down in the snow beside him.

"So first you ball up some snow in your hands," Harry demonstrates as Severus imitates, "and then you roll it around the snow around you, making it bigger."

Harry goes to it like it's something so simple, but it must be a Muggle talent because Severus can't do it for the life of him. He makes the first ball, that's easy enough, but making it bigger is proving to be another feat in itself as it keeps collapsing. After the third failed attempt (Harry has built what he claims to be the base, whatever that means), Severus throws the small ball of snow he was holding in his hands out into the Great White Open.

"Hey now," Harry laughs, "we're building a snowman, not throwing snowballs!"

"Snow- _what_?" The pink tint to the man's cheeks, the mild chaos written all over his face, and the slight mess of his hair makes Harry want to kiss him as he huffs and puffs, but he doesn't.

"Snowballs…you throw them at each other in hopes of hitting someone. It _can_ be fun, but I've never really experienced that side of it."

"Oh."

"Come here, I'll help you make the mid-section."

In the process of making the mid-section and the head, their hands are in nearly constant contact, which is completely fine by both of them. Severus is increasingly glad they have chosen to go to a side of the castle without many windows to have their little snow-whatever adventure, because he's pretty sure a student would have a heart attack if they saw him like this.

After Harry tells him their creation is finished, Severus really looks at it.

"That's it?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's three balls, of varying sizes, stacked on top of each other."

"Is there a problem with that?" Harry asks with a less-than-innocent smirk.

The older man splutters for a few seconds and then says, "Of course not."

And that was the end of it.

He pushes the table up to one of the windows and sits down with his knees to his chest, watching the snow fall. Christmas break started two days ago and the castle is pretty much deserted except for some members of the staff, a handful of students and, of course, Albus Dumbledore.

Harry chose to come here because he needs the solitude, not to mention being close to Severus' things. The older man had given him permission to use his office during the break while he was away visiting family. That's why it scares him to hear a voice.

"Why is it I always find you mesmerized by the snow?"

Harry turns his head sharply to look at the speaker, "Snape! I thought you were gone."

"I was," he nods before walking towards the table, "I see you've made yourself at home in my absence."

"I was going to put it back."

"I don't doubt it," he says without any trace of sarcasm.

They lock eyes for mere seconds before Harry turns back to look out the window, not wanting Severus to see him too emotional. Truth be told, snow makes him a level of sappy that would make any girl jealous on Valentine's Day, and he was in the middle of wallowing in thoughts of never having the man behind him before he showed up. Having him here now is torture.

Suddenly he hears magic being performed, then there's a leg on either side of him and a chest pressed against his back. Harry tenses before he feels two arms wrap around him, the corners of a blanket in the hands. He registers that the blanket is quite big enough to cover them both, and that's exactly what it's doing. Severus pulls him closer against him and Harry sighs contently before melting into the welcome comfort, deciding not to think too hard about why it feels so natural.

"Why'd you come back?" Harry asks after they've been watching the snow fall for awhile.

Harry can feel Severus' soft smile against his temple before the mouth moves to his ear, "It started to snow," he whispers.

Harry smiles brightly at that and, if possible, settles further back against the older man.

The snow has brought him the love he never thought he'd find.


End file.
